


You Want What From The Closet?

by Nak0dile



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Closeted Dean, Closeted John, Not Canon Compliant, literally though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:58:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nak0dile/pseuds/Nak0dile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a slip of the tongue, really. Dr. Watson gets lost in a closet dimension and meets Dean Winchester. They work together to find their way out and probably meet the Doctor along the way. I'm not sure yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Want What From The Closet?

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic. I'm used to roleplay so it may not be all that great but bear with me it should get better.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, I've been calling for ten minutes. Are you staring at that bloody skull again?"  
Watson has been digging around in the closet for at least twenty minutes, and asking Sherlock what it was he wanted from there for half of that. The detective hasn't been responding, so John assumes he's focused on something else.  
"Sherlock? I can't very well find what you needed if you don't remind me what it was I'm looking for in the first place."  
"Quiet, Dr. Watson. I'm thinking."  
"Are you sure? I'm fairly certain you're still staring out the window-"  
"Back of the closet, just to the right of you. There will be a box with a rather sloppy 'S' scrawled on the top in red paint. Bring it to me. And don't forget this time, please." Sherlock doesn't do so much as look that way.  
"Right then. I'll just... Get that."  
Watson pushes past a few coats and jackets, digging about for this box. The closet can't be THAT big... How far back is the back, anyway? The flat hasn't this much space for a large closet. Not without intruding into the neighbors'. And where is that box? Any red S will be nigh impossible to see, it's so dark back here. Why is the closet still going...? Does he know about this? Surely he comes into the closet sometimes. Unless he's just that high above crawling about on hands and knees. He is rather tall. Perhaps he wouldn't fit. What an amusing thought.  
John recoils slightly when he sets his hand down on something wet. Why is it wet? He feels a need to investigate... But he should probably tell Sherlock about this. He starts to turn back, intending to do just that, but finds a brick wall behind him. No, not brick, concrete. Why is there a wall? What kind of joke is this? That's what it is, right? It can't be anything but a joke. Not a very nice one, at that. Well, at least no one's pretending to die in this situation. Not yet. Or at all. He seems to be alone—wait just a moment. Is that a light? Flickering a bit, a yellowish glow, it has to be a flame of some sort. Watson heads toward this light very warily, one hand in his pocket. He's quite glad to have brought some sort of weapon along. It may be necessary at some point. Usually is, on most cases they work. Could this be just that? Another case? A test set up by Sherlock?  
He's nearing the light, now. It seems to be a small campfire, with what looks like a makeshift bed beside it. There's no one at this little camp, though. Not abandoned, or there wouldn't be a fire. So the person or people in question must be nearby...  
"I don't know who you are, or what you think you're doing, but I swear to whatever God is hangin' out watching us, if you don't put your hands where I can see 'em, you might not survive the next few minutes."

**Author's Note:**

> That was extremely short. The next chapter should be longer but I don't have the time right now.


End file.
